nathanlovestrees<p>I walked by this log two mornings in a row, on the second there were mushrooms that weren’t there on the first. </p><p>“And in the morning, without my hearing it, there might be a mushroom that was not there the night before, creamy white, pushed up from the pine needle duff, out of darkness to light, still glistening with the fluid of its passage. Puhpowee.” </p><p>—Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass</p><p><a href="https://disabled.social/tags/FungiFriday" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>FungiFriday</span></a> <a href="https://disabled.social/tags/mushtodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>mushtodon</span></a> <a href="https://disabled.social/tags/fungiverse" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>fungiverse</span></a> <a href="https://disabled.social/tags/sporespondence" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>sporespondence</span></a> <a href="https://disabled.social/tags/fungi" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>fungi</span></a></p>